Strength and Weakness
by white-stone-2.17
Summary: Atrist is a dark prince from a world where children are designed without weakness. Akiru is a simple girl from a jungle planet where children are natural and loving. She is the Daughter of Compassion-an heiress to a destiny both wonderful and terrible. What will happen when they meet? ((from the novel "Heart of Light".))
1. Prologue

Of Strength and Weakness

Hello, everyone. This is a FF for the book Heart of Light written by Dr. Charlie Starr. I make nothing from this, it is not mine, blahblahblah. Basically, I take the characters out of the toybox, play with them nicely, and put them back where I found them. There you go.

Now, if you have never read the book before, let me clarify a few key points so you can read my story without being lost. (Forgive me, Dr. Starr, if I fudge on some of this.)

The story centers around a man named Solomon Starr who used to be the Captain of the 44th Guard on a planet known as Imperial World. Imperial World is (as it sounds) an empire that controls the majority of the galaxy it resides in. The Empire was created centuries ago by 2 brothers, Amrik (for whom the dynasty is named) and his brother who became the first Sykol (doctor who genetically alters all of the unborn children on the planet to be perfect).

The goal of the Amrik Empire is to create children who will be flawless, strong individuals who will show no weakness (physical weakness, empathy, compassion, love, etc). Solomon was the Captain of the 44th Guard, protecting Janis IV, the queen of the 44th generation of Amrik's. However, after Janis punished her Guardsmen for something Solomon considered unwarranted, he did something unthinkable, he resigned. (Every Guardsman is genetically altered and trained to protect and serve their Charge. Thus, resigning, while not illegal, is unthinkable).

Once he leaves, Solomon goes to find his long-lost father on a "savage" world called Kall, a backwater green jungle world in the rim of the galaxy. His father was someone the Kalli called the Man of Light (also Man of Compassion). Thus Solomon is referred to as the _Phillagi _or Son of Compassion. Solomon is guided by a native woman (referred to as Savage) who helps him navigate the jungle which no outsider has ever managed to make it through.

I won't give away anything else plot-wise in the story, except for 2 things. Near the end of the story, Solomon spends one night with Savage before leaving the next day to go to war, never to return. Also, the Sykol on Imperial World has recently helped Janis IV bear a son named Atrist, who will be even more cruel and stern than his mother.

Here is my plot bunny: What would happen if, because of that 1 night spent together with Solomon, Savage were to have a child, a daughter. She would be the _Phillaga_ or Daughter of Compassion. What if she was to be sent to Imperial World and met Atrist, the dark prince who is intolerant of imperfection and weakness. What is weakness? What is true strength? I'll let you find out. Enjoy.


	2. Daughter of Compassion

Alright, here we go, chapter 1. Once again, this is not my book, _Heart of Light_ belongs to Dr. Charlie Starr, I make no money off of this, blahblahblah. Now, on with the show!

Daughter of Compassion—chapter 1

That which is about to be related is a story of little significance. In the eyes of those who were involved, as well as those who were not, the events are distracting at best. To most, it is something ordinary—perhaps not even worth mentioning. Hmm…perhaps. Yet, it is often the most overlooked stories that hold the most weight. Effect is quite a funny thing. It is merely a reaction to an action. The action could be anything, from the explosion of a star to a leaf falling from a tree. Either way, there will always be a correlating reaction though perhaps not the one most people expect. Every piece has a role in this game, and sometimes the role is far more important than even the players themselves can anticipate.

To put it bluntly, the two in question were never supposed to meet. The one had come by accident, anyway. There was never supposed to be another one of _them_. Two generations of the Defect had been quite enough as far as those who mattered were concerned. Yet, the man of light had defied expectations once before, so I suppose it would follow that such a trick would have a successor. Her name was Akiru.

She was sitting in the house of her mother, in the same room she had inhabited for twenty-two years. The ariquan birds were warming up for their predawn concerto as the girl fingered the weave pattern of the blanket on her pallet, fingers memorizing the texture like brail. She bit her lip, picking at a loose thread in the weave work. She was nervous. Raising her eyes across the room, she gazed at her image in the mirror. The face and build were more youthful copies of her mother who, despite previous notions, had proven herself to be far more Noble than Savage in my opinion.

The girl looked exactly like the rest of her people in basic physical characteristics. A small but mature body sat erect, swathed in the tan single-suit which most of the Kalliphi wore in those days. Long, brown hair framed the mocha face in wild, free-flowing waves twisted in bluebells. She was beautiful but in a secret sort of way; the same way in which a dandelion is beautiful—loveliness nestled in the ordinary.

The only peculiarity was in the eyes. They were round and open like the rest of her kinsmen, but instead of the regular green or brown, they were gold. The mark of Light.

_Like my father's._

She had never met him, the man called Solomon. Yet for all she had been told of him, she might as well have. The Philagi, Son of Compassion. Her mother never mentioned him, but her thoughts would drift to him often…Akiru could tell. Every now and again when the rains filled the air and the soul with shadowy mist, her mother would gaze out over the Canopy and remember him. She had only mentioned it once, his leaving.

That Morning after that Night. Her mother had never said so, but Akiru had always wondered what her mother saw when she looked at her on those rainy days. A memory, one regretted? A product of wrong—the taking and the leaving. The mistake. The only Reminder of that one time when two different worlds had united.

She wondered.

As for _him_, Akiru never knew what to think. She always watched secretly when others mentioned the Philagi in her mother's presence. After all, the man who had reunited the made with the made remained a hero in this world, even twenty-two years after he had left. Her mother would always smile sadly. There was the once that she had mentioned him to Akiru, but she had not been angry nor had she been bitter. Of course, he had hurt her and deeply. But she saw him, who he was. She saw him, why he had left. She saw him. And real love never did bother itself with bitterness. I suppose Akiru made her take on him in the same way that her mother did. Although she did regret his ghostly presence in her life, she did not hate him. How could she, when his compassionate blood ran through her own veins?

After all, it was in her Nature to be understanding of Weakness.

The reason she was nervous now also had to do with her father, in a way. The Twelve Years War that had drawn him away had passed, as had ten more years. In that time, Akiru had grown up learning the ancient teachings of Kall. Her mother had never failed to teach her the Ways—the ways of being, of eisos, the ways of the Maker. From her earliest memories, Akiru had always felt a drawing to the stories of the Maker. A _pulling_, a need to have part in them. Perhaps this was because she was Philaga, the Daughter of Compassion. Or perhaps it was simply that she found within the stories something that she didn't quite understand. Something horrible and wonderful and extremely _good_. She sensed a place of fitting like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place. In her heart she needed this, and she grew up waiting, watching for a chance to belong to it. Yet, despite her eagerness she remained in waiting. Her body grew and her dream remained dormant, unfulfilled for twenty-two long years.

That is, until last night.

At some point in her sleep, the dreams had changed. Instead of being fuzzy and disconnected, her thoughts had morphed into something substantial and solid. In fact, she rather doubted that it had been a dream at all. She had found herself at the base of the greatest Great Black tree, the one called the Heart of Kall. As she stood there, she had felt a presence. _He_ was there. With the Maker standing right in front of her, she had immediately flattened herself to the earthen floor, terrified. Yet, she soon found herself standing again, this time surrounded by images.

She had seen strange things, images of a horrible world filled with stone and steel buildings, towering structures with precious few trees facing an enormous Palace which bore the standard of the Amric House. Then she had seen a lady, both beautiful and horrible, smiling a broken smile beneath feathery waves of gold. This one melted into a younger, masculine face of different coloring but with the same crooked beauty as the first. This one filled her eyes until nothing else was seen. Suddenly, the image vanished leaving a great Voice in its stead. It told her things, instructions regarding that which she had seen and what she was to do.

When it was still, Akiru balked. _What? How am I to do this, to be this? Who am I to be sent for such things? The Maker is surely joke-making._

_I am not joking, Akiru_, the Voice replied._ Compassion has not yet finished with these. Once more, Light must go to Darkness and feel its pain. These are bent, but they must be straightened if possible. The first has made her choice, but for the second there is still time. And so unto him I shall send you._

Even two hours after waking, Akiru still felt her body shaking in both fear and wonder. She knew the Maker's plan and she knew her part in it. But it scared her! Imagine, a world without trees and green, with beings that are _designed_ instead of made, with stone and steel blocking out the beautiful earth. She shuddered. But slowly, she rose from her pallet and made her way to the veraki—the balcony which overlooked the tree Canopy from each house in the village. There she saw her mother eating a mango, watching the sun's ascent.

"Charisu, Maté," Akiru greeted her.

The older, green eyes turned to her daughter but froze when they locked onto the younger amber orbs. She had seen that look before, in a similar pair of eyes after they had been face to face with the Maker. She _knew_.

"I see you, Dai-ga," she nodded slowly. "What is done?"

Akiru gulped, "I am going to Imperial World. Maker says Light must return to Darkness once more. It is my place."

The green eyes swam, "This I am knowing. I feel now, for weeks I am feeling it. Maker readies me for my Dai-ga's leaving." Tears fell quietly.

"Aya! Maté!" Akiru threw herself into her mother's arms and wept.

But her mother removed her, firmly but gently, and said, "No, Dai-ga. I see your thoughts. You must stop. Maker knows things. Your heart must be strong for Him."

Akiru nodded, "My heart is strong for Maker, but it is strong for you too, Maté. But no fear. I am my Maker's servant; I go with Him. But I hope I am enough to go. I hope I am safe."

Her mother smiled. "From your lips to His ears, Dai-ga."


	3. The Servant of My Master

Alright, here we go, chapter 2. Once again, this is not my book, _Heart of Light_ belongs to Dr. Charlie Starr, I make no money off of this, blahblahblah. Now, on with the show!

The Servant of My Master—chapter 2

The journey to Imperial World was nearly three weeks, but still far too short if you had asked Akiru's opinion. Governor Pylat, who was still indebted to Solomon, had made the necessary preparations for the trip, finding Akiru passage aboard a cargo transporter bound for the capital planet. Although incredibly kind, Akiru had found the men and women of the crew to be quite strange. Of course, she had seen many outworlders back on Kall but had never encountered them at any distance closer than 500 meters. Thus, she had spent the entire trip primarily in her cabin attempting to steady her nerves.

However, as they descended into the atmosphere of the Imperial planet, Akiru felt the knots that had steadily been unwinding in her stomach coil up once more. _It looks so...odd_, she thought. Decadent, marble walls divided the capital city into inner and outer rings—a beautiful way of separating the important people from the unimportant ones. Inside those, towering steel buildings reached up towards Akiru's feet, trying to scratch her with their cold, sharp fingers. Below these, millions upon millions of tiny people scurried about like ants, some in vehicles and some on foot. All were marching and buying and selling and arguing and being very busy about nothing in particular. The Palace itself was in the distance, a luxurious monstrosity that was as distant and cold as the monarchs dwelling within. _So separate, so different. So...wrong._

Akiru then wondered for the fifty-third time that day what in the world the Maker had been thinking when He sent her here.

Their arrival at the space port garnered little notice from the public. Akiru stepped out nervously amongst the chaotic crowds; several people pushed past her without any acknowledgement that she existed save for a choice words they sent her direction. That was a bizarre thing—on Kall, it was extremely rude to forego greetings to anyone, even if they weren't introduced. Akiru frowned at their carelessness. This would be an interesting place.

Pylat had arranged for a guide to escort her to the Palace. The woman who greeted her seemed surprised by her appearance (the number of Kalli who had been outside of Kall did not even reach the double digits) but otherwise seemed annoyed at having to play chauffeur. The woman gave a curt nod and began moving across the port, not even pausing to see if Akiru was behind her. Once they settled into the little hover-buggy, the woman started the vehicle and they zipped through traffic towards the Palace.

On the way, Akiru acquired quite a few surprised gawks from the populace. Riding in an open, hover-buggy in midday traffic, the crowds were able to get a good look at the obvious outsider. Akiru's cheeks burned as strangers stopped their tasks to point out the strange alien woman with the enormously wide golden eyes. She also gained some rather nasty glares from a neat regimen of men in uniform who were marching down the main street. Although Akiru was puzzled by their hostility towards a person they had never met, I was not surprised by their scowls. After all, the men of the Forty-fourth Guard made it their business to know who came in and out of Imperial World, and they didn't have to look twice to recognize those golden eyes. There were only three people in existence who had those eyes. The first was dead. The second had betrayed them for reasons cowardly and disloyal. They had recently learned of the third, one who had been spawned by the second and who was driving by them at that moment. Akiru could feel their hatred pierce her like Spiderbane Nettles. It was neither the first nor the last time she would feel the effects of the mark of Light.

By the time Akiru was ushered into the Palace, the number of times she had questioned the Maker's plan had reached ninety-four. She noticed as she traveled down the marble hallways how cold the floor was, how very…artificial it felt compared to the soft clover and organic soil that she had known on Kall. Finally, her escort led her to the grand doors of the Throne room. They gave a massive creak but finally opened for the little Philaga.

Up on the throne sat the gorgeous, golden-haired woman from her dream. Clothed in a flowing rose and pearl hued gown and topped with the golden Imperial crown, Empress Janis IV sat erect and regal as she listened to her advisors drone about trivial matters of economy. She appeared to be middle-aged, but was still the most beautiful woman Akiru had ever seen. But the beauty was cold; Akiru could see into the heart of the woman and could feel the bitterness, the confusion, the endless years of regret and denial. She could sense something wrong with her, something unnatural. Though perfect as far as her designers were concerned, she was still inhuman and thereby inhumane as a result. _What a horrible way to be_, Akiru thought to herself. _How sad_.

Elegant eyebrows arched and then narrowed as the Empress of the universe noted the interruption which had just entered her presence. She regarded the golden eyes which she knew far too well. Janis had been seeing them her entire life. For twenty-five years, she had seen them in the face of the man who had been the Captain of her Guard. For the last fifty years, they had been the theme of her nightmares. And now, they were staring at her from the visage of a young woman whose gaze was just as piercing and unnerving as her father's. The Empress was no stranger to pressure. She had learned how to manage the finances of an entire planet by the age of nine. She had learned how to plan and oversee galactic war campaigns flawlessly, with a command that even Amric I would be proud of. Janis IV had been delegating the affairs of the universe for three quarters of her life, but at this moment, staring once again into those _accursed_ eyes of compassion, she felt as helpless as a child in the dark. She felt weak, and it did not please her.

Janis raised a perfectly manicured hand to cut short the babbling of her advisors. Without looking at them, she simply said, "Leave."

"But your Majesty," one protested, "if we don't give an answer to the Falisians now, they could go into an irreparable depression—"

"NOW!" Janis' eyes could cut diamond. The poor fool bowed out along with his companions until the Empress and the Kalli girl were left alone.

"Now," Janis continued, gracefully settling herself back into her throne, "if I recall correctly the message I received from Governor Pylat, you are here to…make reparations, shall we say, for the services your…"

"Father," Akiru supplied.

Janis' nails bit into the upholstery ever so slightly, "Yes. Your _father_," she bit, "who has abandoned his duties to our royal self for reasons that are unacceptable. Am I to understand, then, that you are here to fulfill the responsibility which your father failed to complete?"

Akiru kept her temper in check at the Empress' insults to her father's honor. She replied, "Yes, your Majesty. I am come to serve you for place of my paipé, Solomon. I wish to serve the crown of Amric—" Akiru gulped, "—until you think my obligations are fulfilled." It was like signing her own death warrant and she knew it. _Let's see...that would be number ninety-five_.

Janis smiled cruelly. _The spawn of Solomon, subject to my every whim...how deliciously intriguing._ She proceeded to think of the worst possible duties she could cast upon the little fool. Janis wondered whether to make her pain quick or long and horrible. Yes, that would be fitting. But then something happened as Janis looked upon the small woman kneeling before her.

Akiru, who was uneducated in the formalities of addressing royalty, rudely raised her eyes to look into the face of her new mistress as she waited. _What is she waiting for?_ Akiru wondered.

Janis' pallid face paled slightly more as a revelation dawned on her. True, she did have Solomon's child at her mercy. But if this young woman remained her servant, the girl would always be around haunting her with those eyes, with that _look_ she was giving her even now. Even if she was out of sight, Janis would still feel that presence which had haunted her nightmares for fifty-three years. She would rather slit her own throat than face such agony. _Curse you, Solomon. Even after all these years, you've still managed to find a way to torture me. Curse you!_

Janis straightened her shoulders and sniffed, "I do not desire to burden myself with having to look at such a…thing as you on a regular basis. However, I am a gracious and merciful ruler. Therefore, I am extending to you an opportunity to atone for the sins of your father."

She motioned for an errand girl that had been waiting for a summons in the corner. Janis admired her nails as she said, "Tell my son, the Crown Prince Atrist, that he has a new servant and show this girl to the servants' quarters." To Akiru, she said, "I expect that you won't give me any cause to regret my kindness."

Akiru's face flushed pink with anger. Who did this woman think she was? Supreme Empress or not, no one had the right to insult her heritage especially when the Kalli were of far nobler bearing than this woman! But Akiru remembered her _true_ reasons for coming to this horrid place as well as the One she was truly serving.

She bowed low and carefully said, "I am the servant of my Master."


	4. Dark Prince

Alright, here we go, chapter 3. Once again, this is not my book, _Heart of Light_ belongs to Dr. Charlie Starr, I make no money off of this, blahblahblah. Now, on with the show!

Dark Prince—chapter 3

Sykol checkups were, to put it nicely, _not_ one of his favorite activities. He sat staring at the new Chief Sykol with a look of mildly masked boredom on his handsome face.

"Your Highness, I must admit that I cannot see a problem. Your tests came back normal, you don't seem to have any obvious illnesses…I honestly cannot identify the cause for this insomnia you've been experiencing."

"Tell me, Chief," he asked mildly, "do you honestly think it _wise_ to inform me of your obvious incompetence?"

The Chief Sykol's forehead let out a thin layer of perspiration. "Crown Prince Atrist, I assure you that I will continue to look into every avenue of possible problem areas but as of now, I can only prescribe more sleeping agents to aid in your sleep cycle."

"If those disgusting pills you gave me had actually been working," his voice rose in irritability, "do you _seriously_ think I'd be wasting my valuable time sitting here listening to you prove your own stupidity?"

With that, Crown Prince Atrist rose to his full height of six feet, two inches and strode out of the examining room without so much as a nod. The Prince had never been tolerant of idiocy in his twenty-three years; patience was a virtue that he simply did not possess. He was cold, curt, the son of his mother. Not that he was particularly brutish, but after nearly three weeks of an inexplicable lack of sleep, he had a legitimate excuse for his temper. The future ruler's long stride echoed down the marble corridor, frightening several servants who tried awkwardly to bow or curtsy as he stormed past. He didn't even take note. What were they to him? Nothing but things—invisible hands that did his bidding, which only became visible when they bumbled in front of him. At such moments, they often regretted the day of their birth.

When he finally entered his chambers, he threw the door shut, poured himself a brandy, and collapsed onto his large canopy bed. Taking a gulp of the amber liquid, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. _This is getting ridiculous._ After five minutes of a pounding headache, Atrist rose and moved out to his balcony hoping that fresh air would help. The early evening breeze picked up the ends of his ebony hair and allowed him something he hadn't had in weeks: a sigh of relief.

It was in this picturesque scene that Akiru first laid eyes on the man from her dream. Even from down in the courtyard where she was being shown the way to the kitchens, Akiru could see the Crown Prince quite accurately. He was tall, slender, and well built. He had fair skin, like his mother, but that was where the physical similarities stopped. Ebony hair came just to his shoulders and was, at that moment, tied back on the crown of his head. He was wearing an elegant, black single-suit with ornate golden embroidery which the military uniforms lacked. His face had a strong chin and a rather chiseled look to it, though not overly masculine. Yet the most striking features were his sharp, green eyes that reminded Akiru greatly of the green of her beloved Kall.

He had a dangerous beauty to him, but this remarkable shell contained the same cold heart as the Empress. He truly was the son of his mother—designed in her image but somehow worse, more exact in his heartlessness. A true Sykol prodigy. With these observations of her new master duly noted, Akiru continued behind her guide from the Throne room, whom she had discovered was named Vièla, a shy girl who had a family that she was helping to support back on the third Nebuli moon.


	5. Akiru's Lullaby

Alright, here we go, chapter 4. Once again, this is not my book, _Heart of Light_ belongs to Dr. Charlie Starr, I make no money off of this, blahblahblah. Now, on with the show!

Akiru's Lullaby—chapter 4

Despite the urgency of the Maker's sending her to Imperial World, Akiru didn't actually see her Charge again until two weeks later. You see, Akiru was not a servant that could wait upon his Highness personally; that was a privilege bestowed only upon those of lower nobility who had hopes of gaining favor with the royal house. No, Akiru was a servant of a servant, one who hid behind the walls of the Palace and moved things such as food, laundry, equipment, books, etc. In those two weeks, Akiru lost _count_ of the number of times she questioned the plan of the Maker. _How can I be Light to the Darkness when the Darkness can't even _see_ me?_ she wondered in frustration.

Her chance finally came quite by accident. It was in the middle of the night when Akiru was finishing her work, carrying a load of mending back from the seamstresses'. She was nearing the top of the service stairwell when the errand girl, Vièla, smashed into her, sending the entire pile tumbling back down the stairs. Akiru was about to reproach her for her clumsiness but halted when she saw the look on the girl's face. After all, her friend was not the type to be so careless, and at the moment she looked panicked.

"Akiru, come quick! His Highness is in another one of his rages. You must help us!"

Forgetting the mending, Akiru hurried down the corridor behind her friend. This task was hindered slightly by her recently-acquired servant's garb—a single-suit similar to her old one but with tight little shoes. Also, rather than being tan, it was light blue with a dark blue sash. (Apparently, the royals like their servants to look presentable at the off-chance that the monarchs might actually see them.) The accursed shoes pinched her toes, but Akiru ignored them; her fellow coworkers needed her help in pacifying the raging Prince. Such a thing had happened before Akiru had arrived, and she was soon to appreciate the privilege of being invisible to his Highness when he was in such a state.

When the two young women arrived at the Crown Prince's chambers, they were greeted by the crash of a candelabra colliding with a wall. The five servants already present looked at the newcomers with relief. The poor people had tried every method they could think of to calm the man's rage but to no avail. The Chief Sykol had already been sent for but wasn't due to arrive for another twenty minutes. The Prince himself looked ready to kill. His eyes were bloodshot and his body twisted in agony. His cries of rage were incoherent, but the servants explained that he had earlier been complaining of an intense migraine which had evidently escalated this fit to the point of madness.

The pounding wave of pain washed over Atrist in another round of torture. His vision had become a blur. He shouted incomprehensibly at the shadowy servants who were doing nothing to stop the pain. Another wave came, and he hurled a holo-projector at the lazy idiots in an attempt to rile them to action.

Akiru cried as she looked on helplessly at the man. He was obviously mad with pain. She prayed a silent prayer to the Maker. _Oh Master, the Prince is in such torment! I cannot bear to watch his suffering. Please, Maker, send someone to help him!_

At that moment, Vièla's face lit up and she turned to Akiru. "Akiru, didn't you tell me that your mother used to sing you some old Kalli lullaby whenever you couldn't sleep?"

Akiru nodded slowly. She didn't like where this was going at _all_.

"Well," Vièla prodded, "why don't you sing it to him?"

Akiru blanched, "Are you knowing what you say? I cannot do this!" In truth she was horrified. First of all, the idea was simply embarrassing. Second, it would truly be a risk to her life; the Prince was no longer sane. He was literally having a royal temper tantrum.

Vièla retorted, "At the moment, we have no other options." To emphasize her point, a rather thick tome flew directly to the right of her head.

Akiru breathed deeply. She couldn't endanger the lives of her new friends. So, with no great gusto, Akiru carefully felt her way into the den of the lion, sending the Maker a flippant reply. _This is NOT what I had in mind!_

Seating herself quietly on a nearby cushion, Akiru began to shakily pour out the ancient Kalli lullaby that she knew so well.

_No sosune, compesh mateel. _

_No pensoi, la quesh kadeel. _

_Tadeem, maleen, si benteshai_

_Jeloo moybeen kai meesh tak zai._

( Soft, the winds in trees keep still. )

( Hush, the rains have ceased to mill. )

( Lay down your head, my sweet, and lie )

( Here on the wings of my old lullaby. )

As she sang, her voice became stronger. She closed her eyes and was back on Kall in her mother's arms, falling asleep to the old song.

_Jahn, soleilu kep wehma sol._

_Yareej, ma foipa, maleen pan dol._

_Ga leejee bendesh joolai ka bai, _

_Jeloo moybeen kai meesh tak zai._

( See, the sun has gone to bed. )

( Be calm, dear heart, and rest your head. )

( The stars have come like birds that fly, )

( Here on the wings of my old lullaby. )

Softly, a soothing sound began to pierce through the turmoil in Atrist's mind. The words were only babble to him, but the voice calmed him. As his breathing evened and the haze began to clear, he saw the shadow of a woman kneeling beside him singing. He sighed in relief and lay back to listen.

_Galeem sendara qooee ben shass,_

_Behloom moipen has teek meh vass,_

_Para Maken shara ben soi loigai,_

_Jeloo moybeen kai meesh tak zai._

( Now as my heart finds its own repose, )

( And the beat of my song in time now slows, )

( May the Maker's love now draw you nigh, )

( Here on the wings of my old lullaby. )

With baited breath, the servants leaned forward to observe their Prince, who was finally experiencing the first true sleep he had had in weeks. Quietly, they straightened the room and left. Once they were safely out of earshot, the whole of them praised Akiru for her talent and Vièla for her clever thinking. It appeared as though the ordeal was over. And it was…until eight o'clock the next morning.

"Akiru," an errand boy approached her, "the Crown Prince demands your presence at once!"

Unnerved, Akiru followed the boy into the Prince's chambers. Once there, she found the Prince by the windowed doors to the balcony, staring out at something beyond her gaze.

"What is your name, Kalliess?" he asked with his back turned.

She swallowed, "Akiru, the servant of my master."

He turned to her and looked her over. So this was the Kalli that he had heard of. She was…rather disappointing to look at. Nothing special. Oh well, to business. "You are under my service, are you not?"

Akiru nodded, "This thing is true, my Lord."

Prince Atrist nodded, "You will serve me personally from now on. I expect you out on the terrace in six minutes with my breakfast. I _suggest_ that you do not keep me waiting." Then, he turned from her.

That was the first thing he said to her—a command and a threat. It was something to get used to.


	6. Savage Behaviour

Alright, here we go, chapter 5. Once again, this is not my book, _Heart of Light_ belongs to Dr. Charlie Starr, I make no money off of this, blahblahblah. Now, on with the show!

Savage Behavior—chapter 5

Akiru soon discovered that being the personal servant of the Crown Prince of the universe was not as glamorous as one would expect. Actually, the workload was primarily the same; the only difference was the increase in personal health hazards on the job. To be blunt, Akiru became _very_ good at not being noticed by the man. She had heard and seen the results of his impatience and learned quickly to avoid upsetting the delicate balance of her master. Not to say that he was unbalanced; in fact, she had seen him be clever, kind…even _charming_, when it suited him. No, he just simply could not accept weakness in any form.

After all, it was in his Nature to be intolerant of Weakness.

It was this fact which baffled Akiru the most about this strange race. The problem seemed to lie in their design. Akiru began to catch on to this the longer she served the man. It was something she couldn't comprehend. On Kall, children were born in the typical fashion—unaltered, imperfect, and beautiful in their imperfections. But the Imperial Planet's children were not made; they were _designed_. They were born flawless, strong, brilliant, perfectly adapted for the role in life that they would be given.

Yet in seeking perfection, something had been irreversibly ruined within the makeup of these beings. They were designed under the Prime Imperial will—to always and foremost maintain power. Imperfections, mistakes, fear, love, and most especially, compassion—all were disgusting forms of weakness, the prime opposite of power and thereby unacceptable. It was this obvious lacking of innate, natural characteristics which puzzled Akiru the most. _This is not true Being, these...wrong things! How could a thing as wonderful as compassion be weak? What strength is there in cruelty? What good can bad do?_ The enigma perplexed her to no end.

But because she had been born with a flawed personality, I suppose no one should have been surprised when the Philaga couldn't contain herself forever.

It was on a Tuesday, just after noon. Akiru had been re-shelving various political volumes in Crown Prince Atrist's personal study which he had been poring over earlier in the day. She casually glanced at one of the titles. Ethnic Cleansing of the Savage Worlds: The Pathway to the Amric Dream. Akiru fought the urge to vomit. _What hope is there in serving a master who thinks such thoughts?_ Akiru was beginning to doubt the Maker's assessment of the Prince; he certainly seemed beyond saving to her.

He was, after all, the son of his mother.

She returned the horrid book to its place and walked back into the parlor where the Prince was finishing his lunch. Akiru bowed demurely, received his nod, and continued to the other side of the room to begin scrubbing the marble floor. She poured soap and water into a bucket and began the laborious task of scrubbing the mixture over the extent of the floor. She didn't see the point, really. No matter how much the white stone shined, it would never be as beautiful as the soft, rich loam of a natural earthen floor. She was three eighths of the way across the room when she heard the crash. Instinctively, she rose off her knees and peered over the couch to see what the trouble was. The sight froze her in place.

Prince Atrist was up on his feet with red wine, scraps of roast duck, and garlic potatoes now decorating the front of his once dark green robes. On the floor before him cowered a horrified servant. The poor boy was unknown to Akiru, but seemed to have been so unfortunate as to have dumped the contents of the lunch tray onto the Crown Prince of the universe.

Atrist was livid, "You incompetent little _oaf_! Can't you even pick up a tray without displaying your bumbling lack of coordination?"

The boy trembled in fear, "My gracious Prince! P-please forgive my clumsiness. I am incredibly s-sorry. I'll g-go immediately and—"

His plea was cut off by a backhand across his face.

"Who do you think you _are_ back-talking to me you foolish little ingrate!" He kicked him in the ribs. "I will teach you not to disrespect your superiors. You will think _twice_ before being so careless _again_!"

Akiru heard the whip before she saw it.

CRACK! The boy cried out in pain as the plasma beam sliced into his calves. CRACK! The Prince cursed at the boy for crying. What a disgraceful display of weakness. CRACK! Atrist seemed not to notice the blood that was now staining his royal garments. CRACK! The newly scrubbed floor wasn't white any more. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

By the time Atrist lost interest in the wretched boy, Akiru could no longer breathe. She dropped the water bucket, sending the soapy water sliding across the floor. Blood and Water. Water and Blood. What an odd couple they make.

Atrist frowned at her. Stepping over the mess quivering on the floor, he walked past a shocked Akiru. As an afterthought, he indicated the broken plates and said curtly, "Clean that up."

Akiru was shocked beyond words. Without thinking, she leapt past the spilled tray and scooped up the poor boy. He was no older than seven! _Flowing. So much blood flowing. He is going into shock._

"What do you think you are doing, woman? I said to clean up that mess!"

Akiru didn't even hear him. _These wounds are too deep. I need cloth, strips of cloth!_ She tore a long strip off of the bottom of the curtains. _Too much bleeding. He needs healers now!_

Four loud steps resounded off of the slick marble, then a fist pulled her by the hair. "ARE YOU _DEAF_, WENCH? GET UP!"

Akiru struggled against the hands. He tried to pull her away, but she couldn't leave the boy. The child would die. Suddenly, there was a loud, painful rip. Atrist now held a fistful of the Philaga's long, brown hair in his grasp. The Prince moved to strike them both, but Akiru shielded the child with her body. "May the Maker judge you for your cruelty, you _monster_!"

Atrist was shocked at her impudence. He fumed with indignant rage, "You _ungrateful_ savage! You will pay for your insolence. You will soon see what comes to those with such foolish _compassion_!" He spat the word like bile.

But Akiru was no longer afraid of him. This _beast_ might think empathy to be a weakness, but at that moment Akiru was filled with such a righteous, compassionate _rage_ that no amount of threats or torture could possibly stop her from proclaiming her mind.

She was, after all, the daughter of her father.

"You call me Savage, but it is you who are the monster!" Her golden eyes burned against him. "I know that to be strong is to feel and to care for life! To honor Being. But you! You have no thoughts of right, only power is your thoughts. Mark me, Prince, it will _destroy_ you! You are not made, and you have no part in the made while you harbor such a bent heart of darkness. It is wrong! It is weak!"

And then, a revelation suddenly struck her…her eyes widened with realization, and her voice quaked with fear for his very Being. She pronounced it:

"You, Atrist… have _no_ eisos."

To this, Atrist said nothing. He was furious beyond words. Beyond actions. He could only stand before her, quaking with rage at the audacity of this marginal excuse for a woman. Without a word, he turned on his heel and marched straight out the door, heading to the observatory with hopes of focusing his fury. But on the crown of his forebears he swore a vow: the sun would not set before the Kalliess Akiru met her slow and _painful_ demise.


	7. Strength and Weakness

Alright, here we go, chapter 6. Once again, this is not my book, _Heart of Light_ belongs to Dr. Charlie Starr, I make no money off of this, blahblahblah. Now, on with the show!

Strength and Weakness—chapter 6

To a person passing by, it would probably have appeared as though Akiru were arguing with herself. She was furiously pacing back in forth in the Private Gardens, muttering. Was she allowed in there? No. Would she be punished severely if caught there without permission? Most likely. But at the moment, Akiru did not care what these creatures did to her. She was too infuriated to bother with the idea. And if she _was_ going to rant, she was going to do so in a place that felt comfortable. The Private Gardens were one of the few places in this nightmarish world that were not contaminated by steel and stone. No, she wasn't mentally unsound; she was simply having a heated argument with Someone of much greater importance than any mortal ruler who thought himself to be so.

"He is hopeless, Master. Hopeless! He is as bent as his mother and more so! You must have been joke-making or joke-making of _me_, because that man is three times a Bel than any Amric! This is done. This is done! There is no compassion, no Light that can pierce such Darkness."

_Philaga. Who is your Master?_

Akiru mumbled to herself. "My Maker is my Master."

_And what are _you_ to question my knowing? You doubt my sight? I _see_ him, Akiru, for what he can still yet be. Your doing is not yet done. If you are my servant, then hear your Master's voice._

"But Maker," Akiru objected, "did You not see the child? How can any being with a way for right do such wrong? How can my Maker have light in His eyes for one so fallen?"

_ Philaga…you know. _

And she did. After all, it was in her Nature to be understanding of Weakness. "Aya!" she groaned, "fine then! Where _is_ the Royal Pain?"

_She could almost feel the Maker smile._

Any person studied in the art of chess will know that each piece has its own unique purpose in the game. Bishops, for example, are supposed to be analytical, strategic, tactful. Knights are supposed to be quick and agile, willing to die for the sake of protecting the King. Rooks are supposed to work alongside the King, behind the scenes, watching for signs of weakness. Pawns are supposed to be subservient to the King, loyal, dutiful, humble…expendable.

But even in a perfect game, there is, on occasion, one piece that will act out of its place. Every so often, one member will become upset with its position and make a bold, albeit foolish move. The end result of such sabotage is, quite often, the death of the King.

Atrist was not king yet, but he was visible enough to be seen as a means of persuasion to affect change. And Jude Iscariot was a very desperate man. The idea of a Guardsman rebelling was not only unthinkable, it was statistically impossible. Even the infamous ex-Captain of the Forty-fourth Guard at the height of his rage had not thought of actually _harming_ his Charge. Iscariot had been trained and chipped like every other Forty-fifth Guardsman from birth, but his transformation seemed to have malfunctioned. Or maybe it had never fully taken affect at all. Perhaps his Archéan DNA was a bit too strong, too _old_ for the brainwashing to completely take hold. Often, Archéans weren't even allowed in the Guard; they were considered too intelligent for their own good. A keen observation; a Bishop should never _also_ be a Knight.

But Jude was incredibly talented at strategizing; his grey eyes never missed a detail, making him a remarkable asset to the Crown Prince's personal Guard. Some people said that he did it for fanatical religious reasons; however, the reasons _why_ he did it are not relevant for present purposes. One only need realize that he was desperate to make a point, and his intended banner was to be the Crown Prince himself.

Jude had arranged everything perfectly; no one could fault his planning. It seemed that the Prince had deemed it necessary to apprehend this Kalliphi woman, whom they had discovered (to Atrist's further rage) was here in the Private Gardens. Atrist was on his way here now. Jude shifted his weight in the branches of one of the tropical trees which overlooked the pool where the Kalliess was dipping her feet. He moved his plasma sniper rifle into position, setting his cheek on the stock, lining up the infrared sight with the prospective path of his prey. The Prince had been in the north wing when he had discovered her location; he would come along the northern path to apprehend her. Jude had calculated the exact amount of time it would take the Prince to cross from the covered path to the pool—exactly 11.23 seconds of no cover, no protection. It was more than enough.

Akiru decided that before she was going to get up to find his Royal High and Mightiness, she was going to soak her feet. Furious pacing does, after all, tend to blister something horrible. Besides, Akiru would spring at any chance she got for taking those pinchy slippers off her feet. She gingerly pealed off the horrid footwear and dipped her soles in the icy pool. _Ah…what good it is to rest, even for just a moment._

Good moments don't last as long as they used to. No sooner had she thought this than the Crown Prince himself appeared through the dense foliage at the far end of the path. His piercing gaze scoured the terrain until his emerald eyes locked onto shining gold. Her own anger having subsided, Akiru's face was perfectly calm, serene even. _His_ look could crack bone.

"Kalliess," his tone was frigid, "your brazen impertinence never ceases to amaze. I do not think that you fully comprehend who it is that you are dealing with."

_Neither do you_, she thought tersely, but said nothing.

"I find it interesting," he continued, slowly making his way forward, "that you even decided to come to this planet in the first place. It is quite rare to see a Kalli away from her home world. Most of your kind stay hidden away from the rest of the universe, concealed in their precious trees like monkeys. Though perhaps that is the best option…for the sake of the civilized."

Akiru couldn't tell if he was trying to insult her or merely stating what he thought to be fact.

"At any rate, perhaps in your ignorance you fail to understand the weight of your indiscretion. By disregarding a direct order and purposefully disobeying your Charge, you have earned yourself a level ONE reprimand. Do you realize that?"

At her lack of response, he continued. "Perhaps you are not aware of what such a punishment entails. Allow me to inform you: a level one reprimand involves the offender being submerged up to the neck in a bath of nerilic acid. The chemical is so potent that no one can survive contact with its pure form any longer than a few seconds. Therefore, we dilute it to such a degree that it can be withstood for up to five minutes without burning off one's skin. Not that you'll die, of course, but I am told the burns are so severe that the offender must wear nothing but loose rags for two years after such treatment. Granted, only two other people have ever gone through such an ordeal, but of course—" he glared at her, "—few are foolish enough to require it."

Jude was growing impatient. Guards would be coming soon to officially arrest the girl. _Come on, keep moving_.

Akiru said nothing in response. In fact, she had not reacted at all during his entire address, a fact which both puzzled and served to annoy him further. She simply sat there with her feet in the pool looking at him, or through him, with those wide, piercing eyes of Light.

Finally, she spoke. "You are torn, you know…inside. I see you." She rose from the pool, feet dripping. "Your mind tells you things. Do this, think as so. It tells you good ways are foolish, bad ways are power. But your mind is lying, and you know it."

He was stone. She walked slowly.

"Kalli have sayings. 'Pitied is a man who is the victim of a warring self.' Your mind speaks lies, but your heart sees them. Inside you. Deep. You see your ways are wrong."

"You proclaim your own foolishness, woman," Atrist spat at her.

Akiru smirked, "Another Kalli saying: 'A Fool is he who rejects good wisdom.'"

Her arrogance was astounding.

She continued, "You ask my purpose for coming. I tell you truth: I am the daughter of my paipé, Solomon. I am the Philaga, Daughter of Compassion, and I have come as a witness against the Darkness inside you."

_ That's it. A little closer_.

"Compassion is _weakness_," Atrist walked towards her. "You are a savage, Kalliess. You wouldn't understand the concept of true power. You don't know what it means to have the universe in your palm. Do you think the Amric Dynasty would still be in power after forty-five_ generations_ if we had allowed such imperfections to remain within us? Our children are flawless. Our race has supreme strength!"

"Your children are lightless monsters and your race is dying. _You_ are dying!"

_Sooner than he thinks. Keep walking._

Akiru's heart swelled for this man. This beautiful, half-formed creature who lacked innate Being. "You are _not_ a monster, Prince Atrist. You are twisted, bent in your self, but not corrupted. Not completely. Not yet! I can see you; the Maker was right! You still have time!"

_They are fifteen feet, two inches apart. He is almost clear of the trees._

"You have to see. You _must_ see! Your heart is not all Darkness like your mother. You can change. You have no need to be bent—no need to be _weak_ anymore!"

Atrist advanced on her, "Who do you think you _are_? Do you think a little worm like you can falsely condemn my people, myself, _and_ the Supreme Empress of the universe? You impudent fool!

I will kill you MYSELF!"

He sprang towards her, leaving the safety of the trees.

Hands moved, sights locked.

What happened next was, to Akiru, in slow motion. There was a foreign noise—a strange 'click'. She turned over her shoulder at a pace that seemed too slow, like trying to turn around in a current. She saw the man in the tree. _Imperial guards don't belong in trees_. She saw him aiming. She saw his look, the one that appears on every hunter just as they are about to—

She didn't think. She didn't breathe. At a certain point, she didn't even _feel_. Her mind surrendered to her heart, and in that moment she understood what she was about to do and did it anyway. She anchored her bare feet deep into the wonderful soil and pushed, lunging back towards the man that was trying to strangle her. She knew it was coming, so she closed her eyes.

Suddenly, being strangled to death didn't sound so bad.

She didn't hear the gun fire. She didn't see Atrist's reaction when she barreled into him (though it would have been quite amusing). Oh, but she felt plenty! Never in her _life_ had she felt so well! Fire and ice dug a thousand poisonous fangs into stomach, refusing to release her from their jaws, even when she smacked back down onto the unforgivingly hard earth.

_Everything unforgettable always seems to happen in a Garden_.

Akiru saw soldiers. They were running funny. Apparently the world had turned sideways when she wasn't looking. They quickly took out the would-be assassin, dragging his unconscious form away.

Atrist's face suddenly appeared above her own. His stunning green eyes were wide in shock, and his pale face was even paler than normal. Ebony hair had come loose and was wafting down against her cheek. He gave her an awkward look, one that was meant to appear grateful, but still somehow managed to come across as condescending.

_He really is beautiful when he's not trying to kill me_,she mused deliriously. _Perhaps, he is not _quite_ as monstrous as he was...not quite a Bel, anyway._ Akiru smiled to herself.

They sat there awkwardly with no words for quite some time. Silent like that. Healers came and left, shaking their heads in her direction. And so they sat there in silence, Akiru lost in a daze and the Prince lost in his thoughts.

To be frank, Atrist was perplexed. Of course, she had _saved_ him to fulfill her obligation to protect her Charge. That part he understood perfectly. What troubled him was the look on her face when she had done so. After all, she had not received the years of training to die that his other servants and guardsmen had received. But she had not appeared frightened, or worried, or even shocked. She had looked…_willing_ to die. For his sake. It bothered him.

Akiru pulled out of her haze and turned her head to look at him. "I see you, my Lord Atrist."

He frowned, "Do you understand now, you little fool? Compassion gets you shot."

Always the little ray of sunshine.

But she was not so dense. He was trying to block his thoughts from her with hard words, but she saw past them. "You think—" she spat out the blood that was beginning to come up, "was what I did…weak to your eyes?" _Oh Maker! Her insides were burning! _Flowing…too much blood flowing. Out her stomach. Out her mouth.

He had no answer for her. No one could possibly call such an action weak. "Your actions were not weak, but your intentions were foolish. Did you honestly think to change my mind with such a reckless display? If so, that would be _two_ foolish choices in the same day."

Her eyes were dimming. Was the sun setting so early?

"I…d-didn't want to change—_AH!_" she gasped in pain. Her lungs weren't working right. "Not change you that way. I wanted to…to…" _How strange_..._my clothes are sticky. How did that happen?_

Her mind was drifting.

"What…You wanted _what_?" he demanded.

Her golden eyes refocused on him, but it was hard—the sun was setting so quickly. "I wanted to…to show you…that…" she grimaced.

But she forced herself.

"Com-p-passion is….

….n-_not_….

….weakness."

His eyes said that he could see her. She was quite glad. With that thought, she decided to close her eyes.

She was very tired.

And then, she saw _Them_. There was an old man. He had golden eyes. The Maker was standing beside him. _How nice…they're going to walk me home now_._ I had better not make them wait any longer._

And so, she left.


	8. Epilogue

Thank you all for reading so far. Here is the epilogue. For the last time, this is not my book, _Heart of Light_ belongs to Dr. Charlie Starr, I make no money off of this, blahblahblah. Now, on with the show!

The End of All Things—Epilogue

It would be rather foolish to assume, though her sacrifice was touching, that anything substantial would actually have been changed because of Akiru's sacrifice. As I said, everyone who knows this story thinks it trivial, of little consequence. That isn't to say that there wasn't talk. Oh no! For weeks, everyone buzzed around like insects, gossiping about the lunatic who had tried to assassinate the Crown Prince.

"What a fool to think he could outwit the Imperial Guard."

"I heard he was _in_ the Guard!"

"A psycho then. Good thing those boys have such excellent reaction time."

"Wasn't there a servant that got shot in the crossfire?"

"Yeah, I heard that. He must have died well. What an honor to die for the Prince!"

"That's what they're there for, you know. To serve. Hey, do you think it'll rain tomorrow?"

"Who knows? With clouds like those…"

A dutiful little Pawn. Expendable. Oh well, moving along …

But as far as the Crown Prince himself was concerned, there seemed to have been no difference made whatsoever. Perhaps Sykol design really _can't_ be overshadowed by something so insignificant as sacrifice. It is possible. He still beat his 'lazy' servants. He still ruled with impeccable iron-fisted authority. The Sykol prodigy. The son of his mother. The ideal Amric son.

What can be said then? Was it all for nothing? The Maker _could_ have been mistaken. Perhaps the Prince _had_ been beyond saving. Who can tell? This wasn't the first time such a thing had happened, after all. There was this once, so very, very long ago, when another Servant had been in a garden. He had been killed making a sacrifice of Compassion. People had questioned it; what was the point? The world went on as before.

Akiru wasn't the first. It had already been done. Did that make it redundant? No, it did not.

The Maker, He knows things. To observers, there was no change. But after all, even miracles take a little time. It would be many, many years before Akiru's tiny seed would sprout in the heart of Darkness. But something was _bound_ to happen. The Maker sees things for what they will _be_. Compassion only seems weak to some because it works so slowly, but with time, every heart must admit the existence of Light. The shadows fade. A story of little significance. Perhaps. But either way, no one could deny that by some measure or another, Light _had_ prevailed unto the very end of all things.


End file.
